Aftershock
by ScarletOblivion
Summary: She was alone. Her parents were both killed by the war, but she couldn't cry. The world was recovering around her but she stayed broken, a scratched record on repeat. But there may be something left in this desolate world that can heal her. One last salvation that she may be able to reach.


Erza stared out of the widow at the rain falling down onto the street, her scarlet hair falling gently into her eyes. She was lost in a trance as she gazed into the stormy sky, clouds thundering and a steady drizzle falling to the ground.

She loved the rain.

It reminded her of her family, back when she was still free and happy, when her mother and father used to take her on walks in the rain and she would jump in as many puddles as she could, soaking herself to the bone but not caring in the slightest. They would walk in the local woods, the tall ancient trees surrounding them as they travelled through the rain. Those were the happy days in her childhood, when her parents were still alive. Before the war.

When she was twelve, England received news that Nazi Germany was building an army and invading small countries under the leadership of Adolf Hitler. In the beginning it was just a few unfamiliar sounding places in east Europe, and armies were sent to help, everybody thought that was the last they'd hear of Hitler's invasions. But then they invaded France and it turned into an all-out war.

It was the biggest war that anyone had seen. Millions of soldiers and citizens were killed. Houses were bombed on a regular basis. Nothing was safe.

All men over the age of seventeen had to go and fight for their country. Her father included on the list had left to go and fight for England. He was assigned to fight the Nazis that had invaded France. Mother and I cried when he left, hugging him like we'd never see him again. He told us to be strong, to wait for his return home so they could celebrate. But he was wrong.

Every night I would wake up to nightmares of him never coming back, being shot down or bombed by the enemy. My mother and I would rejoice whenever a letter came through from him. He would send a letter every month to tell us that he was alive and well. He described some pretty horrible things about the war and his friends who had died but he told us not to worry about him, that the war would be over soon and he would return to us safe and sound.

Four years passed since the war began but we kept hope, we knew that one day the war would end and father would come home. But one day the letter didn't come. Mother and I still kept hope though. We told each other that he was fine. That the post office just mixed up the letters. So we waited. We waited for three agonizing months before a letter came. But it was not the one we wanted.

_To the Scarlet family  
>We are sorry to inform you that Mr R Scarlet will not be returning home to you.<br>While in the trenches fighting the Germens, a shell was thrown into the base collapsing the trench he was occupying along with two others.  
>By the time our forces managed to dig him out, he was already dead.<br>He had died holding up the ceiling so that the others would survive.  
>Thanks to him the other two were able to get out safely but at the cost of his life.<br>We are deeply sorry for your loss and you will be getting a medal for his sacrifice._

I stared at the paper in my hand, not comprehending what it was trying to tell me. I was never going to see my father again. I would never feel his arms around me or his comforting voice again. I felt strangely empty inside. I felt like I should be crying. Crying at how unfair the world was and how it had to take my father away from me. But not a single tear came.

I looked over at my mother whose sobs shock her entire body, her tearstained eyes red and puffy. I mindlessly bent down to help her, whispering words of comfort and encouragement. But inside I felt dead.

Time flew by but we didn't notice. It seemed unimportant and worthless now. My mother hadn't spoken since we received the letter. She was like a zombie. Nothing I did or said would have any effect on her. She would only get up to eat and use the bathroom then go and lie on her bed for the rest of the day, silently sobbing into her pillow. She had lost too much weight, her face was gauntly pale and she had a terrible cough that would rack her entire body.

I wasn't much better.

I would sit for hours, just staring out of the window at the foggy gloom, hearing the bomb siren calling in the night, alerting us to the danger.

I tried to help my mother in any way I could. I would cook all our meals and make sure the house was clean. I would go and trade in our coupons for rations at the shop. I still hadn't cried. But no matter what I did she just got worse.

Every time I tried to get her up she would just collapse back onto the bed like a ragdoll. When the bomb sirens called, warning us to take shelter, she would merely shuffle out the door to the town shelter while our neighbours ran screaming.

We had to get up every night to run from the bombs. Some of the houses in our town had already been destroyed, burnt rubble being the only remains of what once stood there. Small crosses of wood marked the deaths of the inhabitants.

Five months had passed since the letter came. It was getting harder to move my mother. She no longer cried into her pillow, just stared off into space. I was starting to get worried. I was scared that she would never recover, that she would be stuck as a mindless being for ever. The death of father had been too much.

One night, while I was staring out the window, the sirens went off. They sounded more urgent than usual, blaring out through the night and waking everyone. In the distance I saw three silhouettes, coming closer and heading right for us.

"Mother? Mother we need to go now!" I shouted as I ran through the house. I spotted my mother flopped on her bed, face down among the covers.

"Mother!" I ran over and shook her violently, trying to waker from her trance. "Mother we need to go! They're coming!" The sound of airplanes was getting closer, their thrumming engines cutting through the screams of the people outside.

My mother did nothing. Lifeless eyes stared back at my own, no response found in them. I frantically tried to pull her up, the sounds of the bombers were closing in on our house.

"Mother please! Get up!" I started screaming at her, the planes were right above us, their sound splitting my ears.

Then I heard it. The sound of the holder doors opening and a bomb falling out, whistling as it sped towards its target.

I ran.

Away from my house, away from my mother, away from everything I had ever known.

I stumbled out onto the street as my house behind me exploded, sending me flying onto the shrapnel covered ground. Fires were burning all around me, the aftershock muffled in my deaf ears. Small cuts and scrapes covered my body from the shrapnel, the red mixing with my dirt covered skin.

My lungs burned, the air was filled with smoke and ash forcing me to cough. I struggled to regain my footing on the crater filled street, my legs wobbly beneath me. I turned around and faced what remained of my house. A blasted crater in the ground was all that was left. Crumbling walls and foundations outlined where my house used to be. All of my positions, the letters from father, mothers favourite dishes, my knitted bear I used to sleep with, all gone.

My legs gave out beneath me and I fell to the ground, muscles screaming in protest.

'I should be crying' I thought. 'It would be a relief to cry'

But no tears came.

I was all alone now. My parents were dead, my house destroyed. All that was left was me. A young all alone. A girl who couldn't cry.

**A/N:** **Hello everybody! I hope some of you enjoy this. This is my very first Jerza fanfic and any feedback is good be it good or bad. This is kind of dark and I'm just playing with ideas here so please tell me what's good and what's not.**

**ScarletOblivion **


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